Why Crying In The Middle of An Airport Was The Greatest Moment of My Life | Jazzed About Stuff

My boarding time had inched close enough to the present that I began to sweat a little. It was only after I had to remove a pair of shoes from my oversized travel bag at the check-in counter that I became nervous.

“See, I told you taking out the boots would help cut enough weight,” my dad said as he grabbed the pair of shoes I removed from the large purple bag. I rolled my now 50-pound bag through that little section of the airport check-in counter. I just kept throwing in extra stuff that I thought I would need during the summer abroad without thinking about the overage charges. Nearly everything in my room was able to fit in that mobile monstrosity. I had just enough time to get rid of a perfectly good water bottle and take a deep breath before stepping into the back of the airport security line.

“Bye, Jasmine!” I turned to look at my parents and sister as they waved. They all continued to wave as I crept further up through the queue, and with every step, I had to fight back tears. When I couldn’t see them anymore, I let one of the tears struggling to seep out past my puffy eyes roll down my cheek. I was alone in the middle of LAX, about to live in a foreign country temporarily, and I was terrified.